30 Days of Sherlolly
by Invisible in the Dark
Summary: Oneshots of Sherlock/Molly for the 30 Day OTP Challenge, most are short and sweet but there may be some longer ones a little later on. Will be updated almost every day with a the next prompt. (Sometimes more often) Most will be purely fluff but expect maybe just a little angst later on. Day 14: GENDERSWAPPED!
1. Prompt 1: Hand Holding

**Author's Note:**

**Should I be working on my Doctor Who story Magnetic Attract? Probably. But I fell victim to the almighty plot bunnies... Oh well! I swear I'll try and update real soon but I may have caught a case of writer's block for that idea currently xD Anyway, I'm taking the 30 Day OTP Challenge and I've chosen one of my favorite couples for it, Sherlock and Molly! :3 So I'll be updating a sweet and short little one shot everyday for each of the prompts. Here's day 1: holding hands!**

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters, if I did Molly and Sherlock would already be a couple. x3

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**Day One: Holding Hands**

This was new to Sherlock, after all he'd only just realized his... _feelings_ for a certain mousey pathologist, and his formerly logical brain was racing to categorize everything, label every second and sort it into his mind palace. (It certainly didn't help that these days Molly Hooper took up the majority of it. Directly after she comforted him during his darkest days, the days after his "death", she had practically conquered it. Now it seemed every nook and cranny of what used to be his own mental sanctuary was filled with his favorite pathologist, her alluring scent of vanilla and cinnamon, the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled, and the light blush that spread over her cheeks whenever he complimented her.)

It was a Tuesday afternoon that day, and consulting detective Sherlock Holmes was walking alongside Molly Hooper, he hadn't had a case today so to push away the boredom he had visited her during her lunch break. After a while, when Molly tired of his restless pacing and fidgeting she suggested that they go out for a walk and he could tell her what he deduced about the people they passed. Sherlock had objecting at first, practically _whining_ about how _boring_ the pedestrians of London were, but eventually she'd convinced him. (Though she did have to drag him outside) As they walked along, Sherlock was silent and first, he was trying to memorize the way the bright sunlight hit her face and that aforementioned scent of vanilla and cinnamon he loved so much. Wondering if it was natural or some sort of perfume, Sherlock decided to ask her if he could run some experiments to figure out what caused it...

He was startled out of his thoughts by Molly's warm hand tangling with his, smiling fondly down at her he decided he could always ask her later, right now he just wanted to spend time with her. Leaning down so his mouth was close to Molly's ear he pointed to the woman walking a Yorkie on the other side of the street, whispering his thoughts on her. His smiled widened when Molly giggled and smiled up at him with that adorable almost dreamy look she sometimes had. Sherlock leaned down again, smirking a little as she turned to look at him, he whispered,

"And as for my deductions for you, Molly Hooper, you are a very pretty young women who happens to have a dinner date with a very impressive consulting detective." He straightened up as Molly rolled her eyes and smacked him fondly on the arm with the hand that wasn't intertwined with his own. "And I think that the famous Sherlock Holmes needs to rein in his ego!" Molly giggled and Sherlock only smirked smugly, deciding that there was no one he'd rather be with right now, and no where he'd rather be. Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes were together at last, just as it should be.

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**Author's Note:**

**What do you think? Personally, I think Sherlock was a bit OOC but it works, at least in my mind. Be sure to review! :) Thanks for reading I'll be posting the next one tomorrow.**


	2. Prompt 2: Cuddling Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

**You know how I said I would upload one prompt each day? That may have been a little bit of a lie. xD I couldn't help myself, so sometimes you'll probably end up with more than one per day. Oh and for anyone who may be worried about the angst it'll only be a** _**teeny **_**bit in one chapter most likely. (And I'll make sure it gets resolved quickly, I can't stand writing angst for too long) There might not be any at all actually, I'll have to see where it goes from here. :) So here's today's prompt: Cuddling Somewhere!**

Disclaimer:

Sherlock isn't mine sorry! You could tell if I gained ownership of it because suddenly the entire show would focus on Sherlock and Molly. :P

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**Day Two: Cuddling Somewhere**

Sherlock Holmes _did not_ cuddle, definitely not. Even for Molly, he would not, _could _not cuddle. In his mind it was a ridiculous action anyway, and he had always connected it with young children and teddy bears... Sherlock was not going to be even remotely connected to _anything_ teddy bear related... EVER. The world would end before he even considered it, yup, definitely.

After a particularly hard case, or even just a dull day in 221B Baker St. Molly would come over when she was done at Barts, though he wouldn't ever admit this was always Sherlock's favorite time of day, and he felt almost empty on the rare occasions where she couldn't come. It was always around 5:30 when she would show up at the door, and Mrs. Hudson would let her in with a warm smile and usher her upstairs. As soon as he heard Mrs. Hudson's cheerful hello Sherlock would move to make room on his sofa and wait impatiently for her to take off her shoes and set down anything she happened to be holding. She would walk over with her normal sweet smile and he would only smile back, letting her take her normal spot beside him. He would wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as she nuzzled into his neck with a contented sigh. Their legs would end up tangled together eventually and he would murmur the story of his day into her hair, affectionate grin never leaving his face. This was the only time of day that Sherlock would allow his busy mind to slow and just soak in the feeling of having his Molly in his arms once again. Closing his eyes, Sherlock would grin almost goofily and bury himself in her hair, inhaling her unique fragrance.

No, Sherlock Holmes did not cuddle, no matter _what_ John Watson said, and Sherlock couldn't help but wish that John hadn't walked in on the pair once during the daily ritual. His normal stubborn self, Sherlock completely refused to admit anything, only changing the topic whenever John brought it up. Sherlock Holmes would _never_ cuddle, nope,definitely not. And the pictures the good doctor had once taken when they'd once accidentally fallen asleep like that proved absolutely _nothing._

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**Author's Note:  
I kept this one short and fairly simple, with a little bit of John at the end. These are mainly Sherlock focused so far but I don't think they all will be. Thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated! And yes, these are short on purpose, I like them like that. :)**


	3. Prompt 3:Gaming or Watching A Movie

**Author's Note:**

**I'm back! This one is longer than the first two and honestly, I had SO much fun writing this xD Today's prompt: Gaming/ Watching a Movie Enjoy!**

Disclaimer:

Still not mine!

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**Day 3: Gaming/Watching a Movie**

"Molly do we _have_ to watch this?!" Sherlock pouted and Molly stood up from where she was kneeling in front of the telly. Rolling her eyes she skipped over and ruffled Sherlock's unruly curls as he crinkled his nose in disgust.

"Yes we do!You've never seen it, and it's been my favorite movie since I was a kid!" Molly flopped down on the sofa next to Sherlock, curling up close to him and resting her head on his shoulder. Sherlock sighed and wrapped his arm around her, shifting a little to get comfortable. As soon as the cheery main menu came up he groaned and then smirked when Molly smacked him good-naturedly on the arm. Hitting play, she snuggled even closer to Sherlock's warmth and tucked her feet under herself as the opening music began to play, "The Sound of Music" appeared in bright yellow letters.

_The hills are alive with the sound of music_

_With songs they have sung for a thousand years_

_The hills fill my heart with the sound of music_

"...Hills can't sing Molly, it doesn't make sense. Why is she singing anyway? Not that she's very go-"

"Shut up Sherlock."

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_How do you solve a problem like Maria?_

_How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?_

_How do you find a word that means Maria?_

_A flibbertijibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!_

"I know how to solve the problem, duct tape."

"Shut up Sherlock, or I'll put duct tape over _your_ mouth."

"Noted."

* * *

_I have confidence in sunshine_

_I have confidence in rain_

_I have confidence that spring will come again_

_Besides which you see I have confidence in me_

"Of course you have confidence that spring will come, that's how the seasons work."

"_Shut up,_ Sherlock."

* * *

_I am 16 going on 17_

_I know that i'm naive_

_Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet_

_And willingly I believe_

"From what I've experienced 16 and 17 year olds can be quite deadly. Why is she acting so innocent?"

"Sherlock..."

"I know, I know. I'll shut up."

* * *

_Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens _

_Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_

_Brown paper packages tied up with strings_

_These are a few of my favorite things!_

"Those are terrible favorite things! What's so great about brown paper packages?!"

"SHUT UP SHERLOCK!"

* * *

_Doe, a deer, a female deer_

_Ray, a drop of golden sun_

_Me, a name I call myself_

_Fa, a long, long way to run_

_So, a needle pulling thread__  
_

_La, a note to follow so_

"Why couldn't they think of a better way to remember la than 'a note follow so'?! That's moronic."_  
_

"SHERLOCK!"

"...Fine."

* * *

_Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow_

_Bloom and grow forever_

_Edelweiss,Edelweiss_

_Bless my homeland forever_

"Nothing can bloom and grow forever, everything dies eventually."

"Way to be depressing Sherlock."

* * *

_So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight_

_I hate to go and leave this pretty sight_

_So long, farewell auf wiedersehen, adieu_

_Adieu, adieu_

_To you and you and you_

"Who feels the need to say goodbye that many times?!"

"Sherlock!"

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_A Few Hours Later..._

"That was dreadful." Sherlock grumbled as he stood up to stretch out his stiff muscles. Molly only smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, then yawned and stretched as well. Picking up the clicker she pressed a button and watched the screen go black, cutting off the credits at the end of the movie.

"Admit it Sherlock you liked it."

"I did not like it and you know it."

Molly had to refrain from saying "I told you so..." the next morning when Sherlock strode into the morgue as he normally did, humming the chorus of the song "Do-re-mi" under his breath.

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**Author's Note:**

**The Sound of Music is one of my all time favorite movies! xD Absolutely love it! Thanks for reading, and reviews are a lot of help. :)**


	4. Prompt 4: On A Date

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! It's great that you guys liked the last chapter, I loved it a lot too. xD Thanks again for taking the time to review! Today's Prompt: On A Date**

Disclaimer:

I don't really need to say it, but I might as well anyway! Sherlock is not mine!

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**Day Four: On A Date**

Molly shifted in her seat, rocking from the left to the right and back again, and again, and again. Finally Sherlock tired of it and rested his hand on top of her's that was resting on the table. Gently, he turned it over and rubbed small circles on her palm with his thumb, hoping to calm her down. A few seconds later Molly took a deep breath and stopped rocking, with a sheepish smile she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair was curled tonight, and her bangs were clipped back to the left side of her head. Unlike her normal fairly casual style she was wearing a simple but elegant pale blue gown with a beaded empire waist. Sherlock was actually wearing a tuxedo, but only because Molly had forced him to.

"Calm down Molly, just pretend that it's a normal date." Sherlock muttered so no one nearby could hear him, Molly only looked at him like he was mad. (Not that she hadn't considered that before) Leaning closer to him, again wary of being overheard she whispered frantically in his ear.

"How am I supposed to do that?! There's a _serial killer_ sitting at the table next to ours!It's not a normal date!" Molly looked over her shoulder worriedly, chewing on her bottom lip until Sherlock sighed and poked her cheek like a child to get her to stop. Running his free hand through his tamed curls, well moderately tamed, Molly doubted anything could completely keep them in line.

"It's normal for us! Remember last week, we went to that party to stop that car thief!"

"Yeah, but he wasn't a _serial killer_!And he's right over there!"

"I know! Isn't it brilliant?"

"Sherlock!"

"Well I couldn't come by myself! Showing up at a fancy restaurant by myself, he'd suspect something!"

"Couldn't Mycroft lend you his personal assistant?"

"As if she'd look up from her phone long enough!"

While they were having this debate neither had noticed that the man they were chasing had finished eating, payed his check, and left. It was actually Molly who realized his absence first, nearly panicking when she glanced over her shoulder to check on the man and realizing his seat was empty and a busboy was cleaning up his table.

"Sherlock he's gone!"

"And I don't like Anthe- Wait what?"

"The serial killer he's gone!"

"What do mean gone?"

"I mean _gone_!"

"Right. Well then, looks like we'll be going for a more direct intervention."

"WHAT!?NO!"

Ignoring her protests, Sherlock grabbed her hand and yanked her out of her seat, throwing several bills on the table and racing off. The pair nearly toppled the poor confused busboy who was wiping off the neighboring table on their way to the door. Realizing a few seconds later that Molly couldn't keep up her high heels, Sherlock paused for a minute and hauled her over his shoulder. Beating her fists on her back, Molly tried to hold on as Sherlock took off again, out the door and on to the sidewalk. After a few minutes she gave up and went limp with defeat with a sigh. Why did _every_ date have to end like this?!

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**Author's Note:  
So what'd you think? Poor Molly xD Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated. :)  
**


	5. Prompt 5: Kissing

**Author's Note:**

**I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Really I am! Cross my heart and hope to die! I mean I don't have a heart because I'm a robot... I mean um... You know just forget that last thing! I haven't updated this in a while, I know. I've had some real life problems I needed to deal with, and for a time I just didn't really have the inspiration or the time to write anything. But everything has been solved now and I'm trying to get back in the groove of writing again. Again, I am so so sorry!**

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters, if I did this would be me:

"There needs to be more Sherlolly. Everywhere. More right there, and there, and there. I DON'T CARE IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE."

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**Day Five: Kissing**

Sherlock and Molly's first kiss did not happen in the most conventional way. Of course, considering who they were it really would be unusual to have expected anything different from the couple. Later on, the story would be told to many many people; friends, family, children, and grandchildren. No matter how many times the story was retold and passed on it always started with the same one sentence, one that confused first time listeners and made the people who'd already been told the tale a few times stifle their giggles behind their cups of tea. Even Mycroft Holmes, who'd overheard the story via cameras and lurking in corners at social events, had frowned in confusion and mild surprise the first time he'd heard the beginning of the infamous tale. "It all started with a crate full of chickens."

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**Hour One:**

It had _seemed_ like a good idea at the time. At least that's what Sherlock kept telling himself. He had needed them for his experiment! Then again... had he really needed _seventeen_? Yes, he had! Well... No, he had needed them! There were invaluable in discovering... Honestly he couldn't even remember what they were for anymore. In the hectic 4 hours it had taken him to disguise himself, find his way there, sneak into the coop, wrestle 17 chickens into a large wooden box (with holes in it of course, he couldn't have them dying from lack of oxygen), and drive back to 221B Baker Street with a crate of 17 screeching and scratching _demons_ in the passenger seat of the borrowed pickup truck he'd completely forgotten the purpose of these evil birds in the first place. Now he was sitting on his sofa, hands steepled under his chin and trying in vain to retreat to the sanctuary of his mind palace. However, it was impossible with the loud squawks and squabbles coming from the box he'd pushed into the furthest corner of the sitting room. Opened his eyes suddenly he sighed loudly, this was not working.

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**Hour Two:**

And to think, he had been so sure that the tape would work! Unfortunately he hadn't really gotten the chance to test his solution properly. His plan had been to use the silver duct tape that he knew was in the bottom drawer in the kitchen to simply tape the little devils' beaks shut. He certainly hadn't been expecting the entire flock to escape as soon as he pulled off the lid! They had practically _attacked_ him, the little, the little... He frowned in frustration, unable to think of a word to describe the revolting creatures. He smirked triumphantly a moment later, if he couldn't think of a suitable insult for them he'd just have to invent one!

It took him nearly half an hour but he'd finally done it. He'd created the perfect word for the annoying little buggers! They were dinglerats. He still wasn't sure exactly sure what the new word meant... But it sounded vaguely like an insult at the least. Sherlock was so proud of himself that it took him a few minutes to notice the havoc that had begun while he was distracted. Finally coming back to his senses he looked around, and gulped. Oh, this was bad. This was very not good. John was not going to like this... The evil little dinglerats had wrecked the flat while he was busy. The sofa and chairs were torn open with long gashes in several places, broken picture frames and books scattered the floor haphazardly, and he was pretty sure that in his entire time living in this flat it'd never smelt this horrifying. The beasts were still running wild throughout the flat, except for one that was either passed out or dead under the coffee table. With wide eyes Sherlock gulped once more. No, this was very _very_ not good.

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**Hour** **Four:**

He was frozen in place, unable to move or speak; paralyzed. Molly was here. He'd been so busy the last two hours chasing the little white, clucking, feathered, monsters around 221B that his date with Molly had completely slipped his mind. Looking down at himself, noticing that he was covered in white feathers he looked around in wide eyed panic, instinctively looking for an escape route.

"Sherlock?" It was too late. He swallowed slowly and managed to speak, which was a miracle considering he had a couple of feathers in his mouth too.

"I'm in the sitting room."

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Since Molly had met Sherlock Holmes she'd seen so many unusual and completely mad things that she'd lost count. Despite this, nothing had prepared her for the sight of the famous consulting detective, and her boyfriend of one week, standing in the middle of a destroyed flat covered in the same white feathers that coated the room. She stood, mouth hanging open and purse dropped and forgotten on the floor for a couple of seconds before she couldn't help it, and broke out laughing. She kept laughing, tears running down her face, stomach and lungs aching, for several minutes. When she managed to control herself she noticed Sherlock standing there, pouting petulantly with his arms crossed.

"S-sorry Sherlock! B-but have you _seen_ yourself?!" She took a deep breath and stopped the last of the giggles. Sherlock still glared disapprovingly at her, and she tried to look as serious as possible. Apparently she convinced him because his expression changed to one that was pleading and more than a little bit panicked.

"You have to help me Molly! These dinglerats have completely wrecked the flat! If John gets here and sees this he'll kick me out for sure!" Molly nodded, though she was slightly confused, and walked over to Sherlock."

"What's a dinglerat? ... Never mind I don't want to know. I can try and help you clean up and catch the chickens if you want." Sherlock beamed and hugged her to his chest tightly before dashing off, looking over his shoulder at her as if to say, 'Well, come on then!' With an exasperated shake of her head she ran after him, grinning madly.

* * *

It had taken two hours, but working together Molly and Sherlock had been able to cram the chickens back into the crate and while Sherlock was returning them to the farm he'd "borrowed" them from she used Mrs. Hudson's sewing kit to fix the gashes in the furniture and swept up the debris. Everything looked relatively in order, there were slight differences from before but she only could hope that John wouldn't notice. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the sitting room (she didn't want to get any of the white feathers that still covered her on any of the furniture) Molly sighed in relief when Sherlock walked in. He looked around, and then a wide grin spread across his face. Molly had no warning before he rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning in circles.

"We did it!" They both laughed in relief and smiled giddily at each other. Caught up in the excitement, Sherlock brought her down and kissed her quickly. They both froze, Molly's mouth was hanging open again and Sherlock's pale skin was slowly but surely turning pink. Molly giggled softly and leaned forward, kissing him slowly. Sherlock smiled slightly into the kiss and tightened his arms around her waist, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Sherlock! I'm back and I got gro-" Sherlock and Molly broke apart at the loud thunk. John stood there, eyes wide and grocery bags on the floor, mouth still frozen open in the middle of the words he'd been speaking. Struggling to get a coherent sentence out, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water he took in the scene before him. The couple stood there like deers in the headlights, covered in conspicuous white feathers from head to toe, blushing with their arms still around each other.

"What the bloody hell did I miss?!"

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**Author's Note:**

**I think that's the longest one yet! I had so much fun writing this xD Dinglerat is actually one of my made up words, from a story when I was younger. I'll be trying to update this again today, to attempt to make up for the absence. Hope you liked it! And reviews are always welcome!**


	6. Prompt 6: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Author's Note:**

**This is my third attempt at writing this! THIRD! I keep deleting it all by accident... I had to take a break honestly. I just got way too frustrated xD Curse my clumsiness! So here I am, nice and calm and trying this again! Wish me luck! Hope you enjoy it!**

Disclaimer:

If I owned Sherlock and it's characters, I'd be fanning myself with money, not writing fanfiction!

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**Day Six: Wearing Each Other's Clothes**

This was not something Doctor Molly Hooper ever expected to see, _ever_. Actually, she really really wished that she could _unsee_ it. Her boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes, the most brilliant man she'd ever had the privilege to meet, was wearing _a dress._ Not just that, he was also wearing a low pair of blue heels, that didn't really match with the calf-length lilac dress he was wearing, that highlighted his fake curves he'd suddenly gained, but if you looked closer fit him very poorly. His unruly dark curls that Molly loved so much were longer than normal, brushing his collarbones lightly and framing his face. And then there was the _makeup. _Granted, it was light and not extremely noticeable, but it was Sherlock _in makeup_. The part of Molly that wasn't frantically trying to destroy this memory before the image became permanently burned in her mind was wishing that she had a camera. Vaguely, Molly realized that Sherlock was explaining the reason for the costume, it was for some case or another is what she thought he said, but she was too busy gaping like an idiot to understand fully.

"Molly. Molly. Did you hear me? I need help taking these shoes off." Molly numbly nodded and walked forward slowly, pulling the heels off and standing there with them in one hand. It was then that Molly's brain began sputtering back to a start. Looking at them closely these heels actually looked very familiar... And now that she was thinking about it, the dress did too, and the lipstick he was wearing was the exact same color as the lipstick she'd worn to dinner with her mother last Friday... It was then that Molly's now working mind finally put two and two together.

"Sherlock Alcott Holmes! Why the bloody hell are you wearing my clothes?!" She backed away from him, dropping the heels on the floor, ignoring the loud clatter they made, and crossing her arms. Sherlock looked up at her from his sofa with wide eyes filled with innocence and confusion.

"Well, where else was I supposed to get woman's clothing? Admittedly, the dress was tight and the heels hurt like hell, but they did their job admirably." Sherlock responded, head tilted to the left and hands steepled under his chin. Molly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, before turning and striding out the door of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock watched her until she left his sight then turned to look at John, who'd been watching from the doorway to the kitchen, with an expression that asked, 'What did I do?' John only smirked and shook his head at the unspoken question, walking past Sherlock with a sympathetic pat on his back he retreated to his room.

* * *

Sherlock was worried. Not about the case he was currently on, it was dull and mind-blowingly simple. And certainly not about the fact that his latest experiment had happened to blow up the refrigerator. No, he was worried about Molly Hooper. He hadn't heard from her in the three days since "The Clothes Snatching Incident" as John was calling it. Had he upset Molly more than he'd thought he had? Was she even (gulp) mad at him? He didn't like angry Molly, she was so different from his spunky adorable pathologist that he lov- liked! Pacing from one side of his bedroom to the other Sherlock sighed and flopped down on his bed. He never was sure what to do in these kind of _emotional_ (shudder) situations...

Molly wasn't angry, or upset even. Oh no, Molly was _planning_. On the fourth day after the incident she used a key she borrowed from Mrs. Hudson to let herself into 221B when she knew Sherlock was at the morgue looking for her. After a few hints, John was out on a lunch date with Mary, so he wouldn't be a problem. It only took Molly about 15 minutes to complete her plan, so she flopped down on Sherlock's sofa and turned on the telly.

* * *

As soon as Sherlock entered the flat he knew something was... _off_. Walking slowly into the sitting room, muscles tense he noticed Molly's familiar form... on _his_ sofa. He was confused, Molly _knew_ how much it irritated him when people sat on his sofa! Taking a deep breath he walked over so she could see him, and frowned. Molly was not only on his sofa, she was wearing his favorite trousers and favorite purple shirt! Not to mention his coat and his best gray scarf!

"Molly... What are you doing?" His frown deepened and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Molly looked up at him, blinking up at him innocently with her big doe eyes. Picking up the clicker she turned off the telly and stood up, picking imaginary pieces of lint off of the shoulder of his coat. Sherlock forced himself not to grind his teeth together and took a shuddering deep breath, resolving to keep his temper in check. Molly shrugged and smirked up at him.

"You borrowed my clothes." Her smirk grew wider. "I borrowed yours." Sherlock pouted down at her like a small child, and reached out to grab his scarf, but she easily dodged him and giggled adorably. No, not adorably. He was cross with her, she wasn't allowed to be adorable when he was cross with her. Though she did look cute with his coat practically swallowing up her small form... Shaking his head Sherlock fought to keep his pout from turning into a smile. She noticed how the corner of his mouth twitched up however, of course she did she was Molly Hooper, she always noticed him. With a triumphant grin she skipped up to him and kissed him quickly before turning to leave.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Sherlock called after her, honestly confused. Why wasn't she staying? She hadn't been here long, and he'd been deprived her company for almost four whole days! Molly stopped and turned to face him with a teasing smirk.

"Sorry my dear Sherlock, I have a shift at the morgue in fifteen minutes so I really must be going!" Sherlock shook his head as she waved and left quickly. He stood there with a goofy grin on his face for several minutes more, before he realized something. His eyes widened and his expression turned mortified. Running out the door, hoping it wasn't too late.

"Wait, Molly you can't wear my clothes to work!"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I DID IT! I didn't delete it this time! Finally! Hope you liked it! See y'all tomorrow! Reviews are always appreciated! And thanks to the people who have reviewed!**


	7. Prompt 7: Cosplaying

**Author's Note:**

**Hello good people of the internet! This is the first of multiple updates today, because I have nothing to do today! The updates will be probably at least an hour apart... Since I have to write them first! I feel like this one might take a but of time to write... Mostly because I'm watching Big Brother and my brain is currently going, "Oh my God! Aaryn is wearing the bear shirt!" ... Hopefully someone will understand that. Anyway... I'll stop this mindless blithering now and get on with the story! Hope you enjoy! **

Disclaimer:

Of course I own Sherlock! ... Didn't someone tell you that it's opposite day? I mean, it's NOT opposite day!

* * *

**Day Seven: Cosplaying**

"Moooollllyyyyy! I don't want to!"

"Too bad Sherlock! You promised John that you would go with me!" Sherlock pouted and slumped down in the chair, causing Molly to frown.

"Stay still!" Sherlock glared up at her as best as could without turning his head. Molly smiled back down at him and continued working. Sherlock kicked his feet back and forth, banging against the armrest of the wooden chair. He was sitting with his back resting on one armrest and his knees bent over the other, so his feet were dangling above the ground. The chair was from the kitchen, but had been dragged into the bathroom for this unpleasant task.

"Moooollllyyyyy... How much longer!?" Molly sighed and whacked him upside the head, causing him to grumble and cross his arms with a childish pout. Fiddling impatiently and shifting from side to side in his seat he struggled to keep the boredom at bay.

"Ok I'm done!" Sherlock bolted up and ran over to the mirror, inspecting himself critically. Turning his head from side to side he looked back at Molly with one eyebrow raised, expression saying 'Really?' Molly smiled sweetly at him and he frowned back.

"I don't like it." Molly sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Of course you don't."

* * *

"Just put them on Sherlock!"

"No! They make me look ridiculous!"

"Sherlock. Put. Them. On."

They both stood, about a foot apart in the sitting room, both with their muscles tense and their arms crossed. Molly was looking up at Sherlock, looking even shorter next to his looming form. They were locked in a staring match, both of them glaring at each other and refusing to give in. After several minutes Sherlock finally looked away with a huff.

"...Fine." Molly grinned up at him and stood on tiptoes and quickly pecked him on the cheek, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch up. Molly handed him the two items in her hand, he crinkled his nose in distaste but put them one a anyway. Molly giggled and grinned up at him, reaching up and adjusting them slightly. Turning and skipping away she called back as she left the room,

"I'm going to go get ready! Don't mess anything up!" Sherlock smiled fondly after her, shaking his head and looking at his _ridiculous_ outfit.

* * *

Molly returned about fifteen minutes later, and Sherlock could just sit there and stare. Molly was wearing the shortest dress he'd ever seen her in, it was a lovely shade of emperor blue that he noticed suited her quite well and was definitely far too short to be proper. Following the line of her lines he noted the sleek leather boots that highlighted her legs, not that the dress didn't do that well enough. After a few minutes he managed to look away form her legs and back up at face, where her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. He noticed her smirking at him at endeavored to close his mouth, struggling for a few seconds before clearing his throat and speaking.

"Uh W-who.. are you supposed to be?" Molly giggled at his higher than usual voice. She'd made the brilliant Sherlock Holmes _stutter_! Shaking her head slightly with an amused smile.

"I'm a medical officer." Sherlock's mind struggled to regain it's capacity for thought but he did manage to continue speaking... semi-normally.

"And um Who was I a-again?"

"Spock."

"Who?"

"Spock."

"...Is he some kind of space elf?"

"No. He's a Vulcan?"

"A what? You know what never mind. We aren't going."

"What?! I've been waiting all year for comic con!"

"Yes, that's too bad. I'm not letting you outside in that outfit."

"Wha- _Why_?!"

"Have you seen how short the dress it is!? It's not proper!"

"Sherlock! You can't just stop me fro-"

Sherlock stepped forward and gently grabbed her wrists, stopping their flailing around. He set her hands on his waist and moved closer, leaning down slowly and kissing her languidly. He let go of her wrists after a few seconds and reached up to pull her hair out the ponytail and bury his hands in it. He pulled away a few minutes later and smiled smugly at her flushed and dazed face.

"Yes I can." Backing away he ran his fingers through her hair one more time before stepping away and letting his hands drop. He pulled the fake ears off and ruffled his hair, hoping it would return to it's curls soon. He grabbed his coat off the back of his sofa and pulled it on, closing it to cover the ridiculous shirt. He walked up to Molly and pecked her gently on the lips before turning to leave.

"I'm afraid I have a case to work on dear. Make sure to change if you plan on going anywhere."

And with that Sherlock stepped out the door, leaving Molly standing by herself still flustered and slightly dazed in the middle of the room.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**For some reason this took a long time to write even though it's not as long as the last two! Does Sherlock remind anyone else of Spock? Hope you liked it and reviews are always welcome!**


	8. Prompt 8: Shopping

**Author's Note:  
So here's the second update for today! Hope you like it!**

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sherlock. I only own a watermelon and a refrigerator box.

* * *

**Day Eight: Shopping**

Molly Hooper woke up at 5:30 in the morning to a loud knock on the door, blinking groggily she sat until she heard the knock again. Looking around she saw Sherlock climb out of his side of the bed, seemingly not noticing that she was awake. When he left the room Molly got up and pulled her dressing gown over her kitten pajamas before following him. Sherlock was at the door to the flat, signing something and handing it back to the man at the door. Walking up behind him after the man left, Molly stood beside him and looked up with one eyebrow raised. Sitting outside the flat, completely blocking the door were looming stacks of cardboard boxes that towered above her and Sherlock.

"Sherlock... What's in all of these?!"

Sherlock tilted his head to the left and raised one hand to count off the items on his fingers.

"A new lab kit, more test tubes, a new refrigerator, a movie makeup kit, seventy different wigs, about 75 different outfits, 100 apples, all 7 seasons of Doctor Who,and a stuffed animal of something called a "Dalek". Those last two are for you by the way. And then there's an iPad, a few new jumpers for John. There should also be a car behind all these boxes as well..."

Molly stared up at him as he calmly went through the extensive list, as if having all of those things appearing on your doorstep was a completely normal experience. Rolling her eyes Molly smiled slightly, she supposed that this was as normal as life would Sherlock Holmes would ever get. It was better than that time she'd been unknowingly employed as bait for an psychotic serial killer at least... And that time he'd stolen her cat Toby to test the drug he'd thought had been involved in his case... And that time with the goat.. Shaking her head to clear the memories something occurred to her and she turned to Sherlock again.

"How'd you get the money to _pay_ for all of this?" Sherlock smirked and pulled a small rectangle of plastic from his coat that was hanging on a nearby hook.

"How else? I borrowed my dear brother's credit card."

"... He's not going to be happy about that."

"Oh. I hadn't thought that far ahead." Molly giggled and reached up to ruffle Sherlock's sleep-tousled curls affectionately, causing him to bat her hand away with a fake glare.

"I'm not helping you this time you know."

"What? Please! You know Mycroft's fond of you! Who knows what he'll do to me without your assistance!"

"...Say please."

"Please Molly!"

"Hmm..." Molly pretended to stroke her chin, as if she was thinking it over.

"Nope! I'm going back to sleep now Sherlock. Good luck with your big bad sibling!" She smiled innocently up at him and walked back to their room. Despite wanting the extra sleep, she knew that when Mycroft arrived she definitely wouldn't be able to sleep over the yelling, she really hoped Mycroft would make an appearance later rather than sooner. The case she'd been helping Sherlock with the past few days had kept her up almost constantly so she was practically running on empty.

"Hello brother dearest. It seems you've taken something of mine."

"MOLLY!"

Molly rolled her eyes, there went her extra sleep, but despite her annoyance she giggled. This was going to be interesting, she could already tell. She decided to head to the kitchen, if she couldn't sleep she was going to make herself some hot tea and watch the fireworks go off. (from a safe distance of course. One did not want to get too close to the Holmes siblings when they were like this.) As she got out the tea and the kettle Molly smiled slightly to herself, what _was_ she going to do with her Holmes boys? Maybe she should set John on them again, that had certainly worked last time. As the faint yelling reached her Molly Hooper shook her head, she was going to have to keep Sherlock away from online shopping from now on.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter is also pretty short, but don't worry I'm planning for the next one to be longer! I pinkie promise! Thanks for reading! Reviews certainly don't hurt (wink wink hint hint) and thanks to the people who've already reviewed so far! See everyone later! Not that I can actually see you or anything! Since I'm on the internet and you're sitting at home. Can you imagine if I could actually see you? That would be weird...**

**P.S. Thumbs up to whoever can spot the Lizzie Bennet Diaries quote in that Author's note! Heehee that rhymes!**

**P.S.S The next chapter will be up tomorrow! Today I'm starting another Sherlock story! Yay! This time with Mycroft because... He's Mycroft. That is the answer to everything! It'd be awesome if you could check it out! See everyone tomorrow!**


	9. Prompt 9: Hanging with Friends

**Author's Note:**

**I swear I have an excuse for why this is late! A small problem related to the previous reason I didn't update for a few months suddenly came up. It's like if your house was infested with chipmunks and when you finally think you've gotten rid of them all, one pops out of no where with this 'Ha ha I'm still here!' look on it's little face. And you kind of want to punch it, but you can't, cause it's a chipmunk. ...Yeah no one's going to understand that comparison. Even I don't! Anyway, onwards to the story!**

Disclaimer:

I own nothing, not Sherlock, not any of the characters. All I own is my crazines- *ahem* Creativeness!

* * *

**Day Nine: Hanging with Friends (or in this case friend)**

"You know this is all your fault." John pointed out, not that he could literally point, as he was rather preoccupied at the moment. John strained his neck to glare at Sherlock, who was next to him. The consulting detective glared back at him, and if he could've he would have been crossing his arms as he tended to do when he was cross. He didn't speak but his expression was saying something along the lines of 'That remark is too idiotic for me deign to respond to.'

"I'm with the good doctor. This really is your fault." Molly agreed, with a firm nod. Sherlock turned to look at her, eyes wide with his bottom lip sticking out in a rather pathetic looking puppy dog face.

"Mollllyyyyyyy! You're my fiancee! You're not supposed to agree with _him_." He motioned with his head towards John. "You're supposed to agree with me!" Molly laughed and shook her head, stopping suddenly as she realized that laughing probably wasn't the best thing to do in their current situation.

"Well he's right! Do you need me to tell you the story of how you got us here?" Sherlock sighed and shook it head, not that that stopped Molly from beginning her tale anyway. Tilting her head to one side, like Sherlock tended to do

"Well it all began as a completely normal day, or as normal as a day can ever be when you're forced to live with Sherlock Holmes..."

"What do you mean forced?!"

* * *

"It all started as a completely normal day, or as normal as a day can ever be when you're forced to live with Sherlock Holmes..."

_"Sherlock! Why is there green slime in the bath?!" Standing with her hands on her hips in the door to the bathroom, Molly called the question into the kitchen. When she got no response, she sighed and walked to the kitchen looking in on Sherlock and John. Sitting across from each the pair was glaring at each other, well John was glaring at Sherlock who was sitting and appeared perfectly calm. Confused, Molly ran her fingers through her hair and looked the scene over. Neither of them were saying anything but it appeared that they disagreed about something._

_"Um... Sherlock? Why's there green slime in the bath?" Both of the men looked up at her, and Sherlock blinked a few times before shaking his head and looking at John. John raised one eyebrow and nodded towards Molly, as if saying 'Go on. Tell her." Sherlock looked at him pleadingly and sighed._

_"I wanted to see if it would dissolve the tub..." He muttered the answer under his breath, and John shook his head with an exasperated sigh. Molly raised one eyebrow and watched as Sherlock pulled out his phone and fiddled with it, avoiding her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Molly prepared to lecture him on all the reasons that putting green mysterious goop in the bath to see if it would dissolve it. However, she didn't get this opportunity as Sherlock stood up suddenly, and ran into the sitting room, grabbing his coat off of the back of his sofa he quickly pulled it on. Molly and John walked into the room as he was wrapping his scarf around his neck. The pair exchanged a look and turned to the consulting detective, John took a long gulp from his cup of tea and Molly just shook her head._

_"Sherlock?" Molly questioned, crossing her arms as the detective looked in the mirror and turned his coat collar up._

_"Text from Lestrade. They have information on the killer's location. That's where we're going." Sherlock turned towards them and grabbed both of their coats from the hooks on the wall. He threw them to their respective owners and turned back to the mirror, inspecting his appearance. Strolling out the door, he left his friend and fiancee standing with equal mixtures of confusion and exasperation on the faces. They continued to stand there until Sherlock's head popped back out from behind the door._

_"Coming?"_

* * *

"You know I _was_ there Molly. You really don't need to tell this story."

"Oh I know. But maybe you'll finally realize that this entire thing is your fault!"

"... My arms hurt."

"You're my friend, but please do be quiet John."

"Sherlock be polite!"

"I was polite Molly! I said please!"

"I'm just going to get back to the story."

"Mooolllly! Do you haaaaaavvvvveeeee to!?"

"...Yes."

* * *

_"Sherlock where _exactly_ are we going?" Molly asked as Sherlock dragged her by her arm down another street. John was running a few feet behind them, struggling to keep up with the taller man's longer strides. Molly was really more stumbling than walking, Sherlock had a firm grip on her arm was continuing at a fast speed, causing her to have no choice but to stumble along beside him._

_"The roof of the Hammerstein office building. The killer is leaving the country via helicopter from there. We're going to stop him." Molly, finally regained her footing and started jogging to keep up with Sherlock's fact pace. John managed to catch up and was working hard to stay beside them, puffing slightly. _

_"How are we supposed to stop a _helicopter_ from taking off?" Sherlock looked down at John, then at Molly. He sped up even more, which would have caused John to complain if he hadn't been so out of breath. Suddenly, Sherlock stopped in front of a tall building, surprising his companions who, much less gracefully stopped a few feet later. Backpedalling so they were even with the dark haired man they all stared up at the imposing building in front of them._

_"I haven't figured that out yet. Well no use sitting here." And with that, Sherlock took off again, dashing through the revolving door of the building and leaving John and Molly to catch their breath and follow him. They took their time walking through the door and entering one of the lifts, ignoring the strange looks of the other people inside they went to the roof and exited. Sherlock turned and glared at them, before turning and running at the helicopter that was slowly leaving the rooftop. _

_"Come along then!" he yelled back at them, Molly looked at John who shrugged and ran after Sherlock, leaving Molly with really no choice but to follow them. She really had absolutely no idea what Sherlock was doing, but she trusted him... For the most part. Whatever she was expecting it certainly wasn't for him to grab onto the helicopter landing skids and not let go. Shaking her head Molly watched John jump and hold on as well, before hurrying to join them before the copter was out of reach. _

* * *

"...And that is how it's your fault we're now stuck hanging from this stupid helicopter, WITH NO WAY DOWN."

"We just need to jump down when they're landing."

"And when will that be Sherlock?"

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet John?"

"I think this may be the worst situation you've gotten us into."

"Even worse than the _seventeen_ chickens in the flat Molly?"

"Wait! WHAT CHICKENS?!"

"...None of your concern John."

"It is my concern! They were chickens in _my flat_?!"

"Technically John it's _our_ flat, and Molly's too since she moved in with us."

"Molly. What. Chickens."

"... Umm... Uh... It was all Sherlock's fault!"

"I can believe that."

"_Real _mature Molly."

"Be quiet Sherlock it's true!"

"Actually a lot of our problems are your fault..."

"I find that highly offensive."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I think this is the longest one yet! Sorry for the late update! Reviews are appreciated! Later! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	10. Prompt 10: With Animal Ears

**Author's Note:**

**Could I come up with something to say here and rant about a something that probably none of you care about? Of course I could! Am I going to? Nope! Onwards and upwards to the story!**

Disclaimer:

I own... let's see, a couch, Doctor Who season (series?) 1 on DVD, a talking Dalek plush , Sherlock, a golden retriever, an insane cat, Doctor Who the TV movie on DVD (Paul McGann! *swoon*), Once Upon A Time season 1 on DVD, a well read copy of Pride & Prejudice, and a pair of horribly ugly Crocs. Does it look like Sherlock is on that list to you?

Part Of My Brain That's Actually Smart: Yes actually.

Me: What! Where?

Part Of My Brain That's Actually Smart: It's the fourth one. Right after the talking Dalek plush.

Me: ... Smarty pants.

* * *

**Day Ten: With Animal** **Ears**

"Molly remind me why we're doing this again?"

"For Mycroft's Halloween party remember?"

"...Remind me why we're doing this again?"

"You lost that bet with John."

"Oh yeah...How was I supposed to know how good John was at poker?!"

"Hmmm... Maybe, just _maybe_, because you're supposed to be a great detective! It's your _job_ to know these things!"

"You're getting far too sarcastic. Have you been spending a lot of time with Lestrade?"

"I don't know, you tell me. _You're_ the detective!"

"... Let's just get this over with."

* * *

And so, half an hour later Sherlock Holmes showed up at the door of the Holmes estate wearing a pair of bright white rabbit ears. As he knocked on the door a tad more forcefully than was probably necessary he glowered down at Molly, who smiled back at him and adjusted the black cat ears on her head. Sherlock's full costume was the rabbit ears, a white jumper, and a white fluffy tail clipped to the back of his trousers. He had complained about the tail to no end, but eventually Molly had gotten him to stop blithering and just suck it up. Molly was wearing the cat ears, a tight black turtle neck, and black skinny jeans; she also had a long black tail. The pair stood there for a few more moments, Sherlock grumbling complaints under his breath and Molly simply smiling through it, when Mycroft opened the door.

"Miss Hooper, and my... dear brother." Mycroft smiled slightly at Molly and nodded to Sherlock, not even fazed by his brother's sullen face or his... unusual dress. "I believe that was looking for both of you. And I would like to congratulate you, Miss Hooper, on your control over my younger sibling." Molly beamed up at Mycroft and grabbed Sherlock's hand, pulling him inside after her.

"Thank you Mycroft! We should go find the good doctor." Sherlock dragged his feet and trudged along after her, saying nothing understandable but still complaining under his breath. It took several minutes for the couple to search through the large rooms and crowds, a lot of Mycroft's important government connections were there and so were many of his personal assistants, who could be found in almost every corner of every room with their BlackBerrys in hand. Eventually they found John Watson (who was dressed as the third Doctor) attempting to talk to one of the assistants in the main dining room. (Molly thought her name was "Rhea" but as they were always changing she wasn't really sure) The woman was paying no attention to the doctor and continued with whatever she was doing on her BlackBerry, leaving John awkwardly trying to continue a one-sided conversation.

"John!" Molly called out and waved at the man with a smile when he looked around in surprise. John waved back at her and walked over, not bothering to say goodbye to "Rhea." He'd been focused on Molly and it wasn't until he reached them that he looked at Sherlock, and burst out laughing. Molly started giggling along with him, holding one hand over her mouth so she wasn't too loud. Sherlock glared at both of them, then turned his back to them causing John and Molly to only laugh harder at his fluffy tail. It took a few minutes for them to regain control over themselves, and even then they were both still laughing in seemingly random intervals. Sherlock failed to find his torture funny and continued to glower down at them with his arms crossed.

"S-sorry Sherlock! But-" John broke off his sentence with a few chuckles, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "I didn't think you'd actually do it!" Both he and Molly resolved into peals of laughter that they couldn't control. Sherlock sighed, an irritated look on his face as he adjusted his floppy ears and tapped one foot impatiently on the ground. Obviously, this was going to be going on the entire night. Damn. Rolling his eyes, he took a long deep breath and exhaled. No matter what it took, he was going to get back at them for this. Oh, he might not get his revenge for weeks, months even, but he knew better than anyone. There was nothing in the world as dangerous as a Holmes with a vendetta.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I know, I know it's short! Don't hurt me! On the bright side I've discovered a cure for writer's cramp! (That pain in your hand when you've been writing or drawing too long) Writer's block. So I listened to I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers over, and over, and over, and over. Oh eighties music what would I do without you? The next one will probably be short too since I don't really know much (aka, I know NOTHING) about the prompt... Research time! Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated as I make no money for this... But a girl can dream can't she?**


	11. Prompt 11: Kigurumis!

**Author's Note:**

**If you don't know what the prompt is, don't worry! I had no idea what it was, so I looked it up! And all shall be explained... As best as I can. I would recommend just looking pictures up on the internet. Hope you enjoy!**

Disclaimer:

I own nothing. Is that what you wanted to hear?

* * *

**Day Eleven: Kigurumis (Sort of these loose one-piece pajama like clothing items with hoods...)**

"You _really_ need to stop losing bets with John."

"Well I don't do it intentionally!"

"You're just lucky that I agree to do these things with you."

"Why are all of my losing humiliations costume related?"

"John's planning to put them all on the web. He wants them to have a common theme."

"Wait he's been _recording_ these?!"

"He got the footage of the party from Mycroft, and you agreed as part of the bet to let him film this."

"I hate John sometimes."

"I'm sure he feels the same way about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing dear."

"Are you two coming out of there anytime soon?"

"Patience is a virtue John."

"Sherlock."

"Yeah?"

"Shut it and get out here."

* * *

Molly came out first, stepping through the door of Sherlock's room and into the hallway where John was waiting. It took a few more minutes for Sherlock to finally come out, and these minutes were filled with an equal mixture of begging (John) and threatening (Molly). Finally, Sherlock came out, and John struggled to contain the urge to laugh. Molly smiled sweetly at Sherlock and stood on her toes to reach and pull his hood up. Sherlock smiled slightly back at her, but quickly returned to his childish pout.

"Aww aren't you two just _adorable_!" Sherlock glared at John, who was smiling and now had a handheld camera focused on them. Sherlock crossed his arms and frowned stubbornly. Looking down at himself he frowned and his eyebrows drew closer together.

"John?" The doctor looked up at Sherlock, and Molly stopped waving happily at the camera and turned to him as well.

"What _exactly_ am I supposed to be?" John and Molly's mouths gaped open and they exchanged a look that clearly said 'What the bloody hell is talking about?' Sherlock watched this with confusion, and tilted his head to one side with a sigh. Molly and John shook their heads slightly and closed their mouths after a second.

"Are you _honestly_ saying that you don't know who Winnie the Pooh is?"

"I'm sorry John, Winnie the _what_?"

"Winnie the Pooh. P-O-O-H."

"What the hell is a pooh?"

"It's short for pooh bear."

"Well what's a pooh bear?"

"Molly do you want to try and explain?"

"Ooh! I know! I still have the books from when I was little in my flat! I can run and get them."

"Oh no. You are _not_ going outside dressed as... Who are you exactly?" Molly grinned.

"Oh, uh glad to meet ya! Name's Tigger! T-I-double guh-er, that spells Tigger!" Molly said in a rather good Tigger impression.

"Molly what are you going on abo-" Molly smiled wider at him and started singing.

"_The wonderful thing about tiggers_  
_Is tiggers are wonderful things!_  
_Their tops are made out of rubber_  
_Their bottoms are made out of springs!_  
_They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy_  
_Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!_  
_But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is_  
_I'm the only one _  
_Tiggers are cuddly fellas_  
_Tiggers are awfully sweet_  
_Ev'ryone el-us is jealous_  
_That's why I repeat... and repeat_

_The wonderful thing about tiggers_  
_Is tiggers are marvelous claps!_  
_They're loaded with vim and vigor_  
_They love to leap in your laps!_  
_They're jumpy, bumpy, clumpy, thumpy_  
_Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!_  
_But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is_  
_I'm the only one!"_

Sherlock stood gaping at Molly for over ten minutes, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. Finally, exactly 11 minutes and 35 seconds later (John had been counting while trying not to laugh) Sherlock pulled himself together. He snapped his mouth shut with a quiet noise, and blinking several times managed to get his eyes relatively close to their normal size. He started to speak, failed except for a small slightly choked sounding noise, swallowed and tried again.

"W-what the bloody headless horseman was that?"

* * *

_A Week Later:_

"I can't believe you put it on YouTube."

"I did warn you Sherlock."

"But Joooohhhhnnnnn!"

"Um guys?"

"Yeah Molly?"

"Have you checked the views on the video?"

"No why?"

"They're up to over a million."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh lord, really? Sherlock shut your mouth, you'll catch flies."

"I'm never leaving 221B again. You'll have to bring my cases here John. This is even worse than the ear hat incident!"

"Oh grow up Sherlock. Now you're even more famous!"

"I don't want to be famous Molly!"

"Molly have you read the comments?"

"No I just checked the views."

"Yes well... Most of them are about you."

"WHAT?!"

"Calm down Sherlock! Half of them are just saying that she's a good singer!"

"What about the other half?"

"Um yes well... The other half is asking if I'm single..."

"That's it. You're never leaving 221B either Molly. You're stuck here with me forever."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I did say it was going to be short didn't I? Anyway, hoped you like it! Oh, and someone asked if I was going to write Sherlock's revenge from the last chapter. I'm not really sure yet... I'm going to look over the list of prompts and see if one will work. I'll get back to you on that! Reviews are much appreciated! Later everyone!**


	12. Prompt 12: Making Out

**Author's Note:**

**To be honest, I'm kind of nervous about this prompt... I've never written anything like this before, but I'm fairly confident that I can do it! Yeah this might be a completely failure... Wish me luck!**

Disclaimer:

I own _everything_! Heh heh heh. Not.

* * *

**Day Twelve: Making Out**

**(Quick clarification. This happens early on in Molly and Sherlock's relationship)**

"Do calm down Molly. Your anxious fidgeting isn't helping anything." Sherlock didn't look up from his phone as he spoke, continuing to text furious, the sound of fingers tapping on keys filling the enclosed space. Molly glanced at him, and went back to shifting from side and nervously wringing her hands in her lap. After another minute Sherlock slipped his phone back in his coat pocket with a sigh and reached over, setting his hand on top of Molly's to stop their movement.

"It's just Mycroft Molly." Molly looked up at Sherlock, her hazel eyes filled with worry. Shaking his head the consulting detective gently pulled her hands apart and intertwined their fingers together.

"Yes but why did he send for us? Why did he send for _me_?"

"I don't know Molly. We'll find out soon enough I suppose." Molly bit her bottom lip and started bouncing her left leg nervously up and down against the floor of the car. Sherlock sighed softly and reached to unbuckle his seat belt, letting it snap back to it's original position.

"Sherlock what are yo-"

"Shush Molly." Sherlock shifted closer to her and brushed a few pieces of stray hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. He smiled slightly at her, more of a fond quirk of his mouth than anything else.

"You worry too much."

"You worry too littl-"

Sherlock leaned forward and cut her off, slowly moving his lips against her. Molly was still for a moment or two, before she brought her hands up to rest one on his shoulder, and to bury the other in his dark curls. He smiled slightly against her lips and reached around her to undo her seatbelt as well, then pulled her legs up onto the seat so she was completely facing him. Wrapping one arm around her waist, which involved some planning and maneuvering because of the small space, Sherlock languidly nipped at her bottom lip. With one hand on her waist and the other resting on her cheek he urged her to lean back against the darkened window and settled slightly above her. Molly mewed softly as he brought the hand on her waist upwards to twist in her hair, and Sherlock smirked before tangling his tongue with hers, causing Molly to gasp and pull back.

"How much time do we have?" Sherlock smirked at her breathless tone and ran his hand up and down her back.

"I'd say about 15 minutes. Perhaps twenty if we run into traffic."

"Bet you that's not enough time."

"Challenge accepted Miss Hooper."

Sherlock pulled Molly closer to him and wrapped his other arm around her, causing her to wrap her arms around his neck with a contented sigh.

* * *

Exactly 15 minutes later the black government issued car rolled to a stop in the driveway of the Holmes estate. Mycroft stood waiting, holding his umbrella like a cane and leaning on it. Every so often he would glance down at the watch on his wrist or adjust his tie, but otherwise was almost perfectly still. The couple stepped out of the backseat and Mycroft took a moment to look over his brother's smug expression and their rumpled clothes and hair before closing his eyes and sighing melodramatically.

"The car? Really Sherlock, I'd thought Mummy had taught you better manners that that." Sherlock glared at his brother and smoothly rested one arm over Molly's shoulders. She didn't even notice, she was too busy blushing furiously and staring at the ground with a mortified look on her face. The younger Holmes rolled his eyes and and smirked at his brother.

"And I'd thought that she'd taught you that too many sweets are bad for you. Guess we both were wrong." Mycroft glared at his sibling and sighed, before waving a hand dismissively.

"Just go. I'll talk to you both later. And do try to behave on the way back Sherlly." Sherlock glared at the use of the nickname but then smirked and moved his arm down to Molly's waist. (the pathologist was still too embarrassed to look at either of them) The detective turned and walked back to the car, bringing Molly with him.

"No promises brother dearest!"

* * *

**Author's Note:  
Yes it's short. I know but I hope that everyone likes it anyway! Please comment on how you think I did since I've never written anything like this before. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	13. Prompt 13: Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

**I know, I know, I dropped off the map for a while! Have you ever had a period of time where your brain just stops? And you had all this inspiration and all these ideas and then suddenly... Nothing. Yeah that's what happened to me. Trust me, it's not an excuse! More of an explanation I guess. So instead of sitting around and slowly rotting my brain with YouTube videos I've decided to do what the almighty internet tells me, and write anyway! If this is awful blame the internet not me...**

* * *

**Day Thirteen: Ice Cream**

"Please Sherlock!"

"No."

"Oh don't be so grumpy! Just because you got splashed a little..."

"I got soaked Molly!"

"Well it is called _Splash_ Mountain for a reason... And that wasn't my fault!"

"You made us sit in the front!"

"That doesn't have anything to do with this... Anyway, you're almost dry!"

"The answer is still no."

"I'll pay!"

"...Fine."

"YAY!"

* * *

"I don't understand why you wanted that so badly." Sherlock looked down at Molly as they walked down the path.

"Because ice cream is just about the best food ever! Duh... Plus, it's not just ice cream! It's _mouse shaped_ ice cream!" Molly skipped ahead, tugging on Sherlock's hand and pouting when he refused to falter from his slow pace. Admitting defeat she returned to his side and happily bit off a chunk of her chocolate covered ice cream.

"...I don't understand how the shape of the food is connected to your longing for it... Also, you seemed to be acting more childish during this trip than you do back home. I've been documenting it in my place and several times you've exhibit-" Sherlock was cut off by Molly covering his mouth with the hand he'd been holding.

"You can't say that _I'm_ acting childish! You ran as fast as you could to get a picture with Tigger! And of course I'm acting childish, we're in the happiest place on earth!" Sherlock glared down at Molly with a pout and crossed his arms over his chest. He waited before saying anything as Molly skipped over to a trash can to throw away the popsicle stick from her ice cream.

"First, I only wanted to ask that so-called Tigger some questions! You didn't explain anything about it or... Who was I again?"

"Winnie the Pooh"

"Right. And second, I fail to understand how some amusement park in _America_" He spat out the word like it hurt him to say it. "Is possibly the happiest place in the entire world."

"Because it's not just some amusement park in Florida! It's _Disney World_!"

"How does tha-"

"Do be quiet Sherlock. I want to go get one of the headbands with mouse ears on them!"

"I'm not wearing one. They're ridiculous."

"Oh you're wearing one."

"But Mollllllllllyyyyyyyyy!"

"No buts!"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Yes I know that it's short and basically all dialogue! Don't kill me! I'm going to try my hardest to update more often and write longer chapters! I hope you liked it, reviews are appreciated and all that crap... Bye!**


	14. Prompt 14: GENDERSWAPPED!

**Author's Note:**

**I've been waiting to reach this prompt for what feels like forever! So I'm not going to stay on this author's note for too long! Hope you like it. ROLL THE CHAPTER!**

**Disclaimer:**

**I forgot this in the last chapter... Oops! Anyway you know how it goes. I own nothing BLAH BLAH BLAH!**

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**Day Fourteen: GENDERSWAPPED!**

Martin Hooper was in no way an above average teen. He was nice enough, wasn't the best looking, or the worst looking, wasn't the dumbest kid, or the smartest. Yet, Martin Hooper was in some ways a little odd, and those were the reasons he didn't have many friends. He hid his near obsession with learning about death and bodies as well as he could, which was very poorly and often why no one wanted to be near him. That paired with his unusual slightly morbid sense of humor was why everyone avoided him. Martin himself was kindhearted and quirky personality wise, not that anyone ever bothered to find out. To everyone in his grade Martin Hooper was just that weird guy who probably wasn't quite right in the head, to be avoided at all costs or risk being socially shunned. And so, Martin was alone. Sure he had his mom and his older brother, but nothing had really been the same since his dad died when he was twelve, and family wasn't the same as friends.

He didn't mind the solitude, not really. At least that's what he told himself, that he was fine by himself, that he could pay more attention to his grades without the distraction and drama or friends. That's all friends were anyway, drama. He'd seen it, while shuffling down the halls and sitting in the back of the class. Friends caused fights, and rumors, and someone always got hurt. No, Martin Hooper definitely absolutely didn't mind being alone, no matter what that tiny voice in the back of his head kept telling him.

* * *

Sherrian Holmes was in no way an average teen. She wasn't nice to, well, anyone really. Most people would consider her stunning even though she couldn't care less about her appearance. All high cheekbones and curves and dark curls she was a sight to behold. Even more impressing than her looks was her intellect. Sure, Sherrian Holmes didn't know that the earth went around the sun or that Washington was the first president of the United States, but she could identify 243 different types of tobacco ash and an airline pilot by his left thumb. Sherrian was often interpreted as rude and arrogant, but she thought of it differently. Why should she be modest? She knew she was brilliant, why bother acting like she was one of the idiots that surrounded her? And manners were a horribly dull waste of time anyway. Because of her bristly personality she didn't have friends, not that she wanted or needed them. She had daddy, and she supposed she had her sister Maycroft, even if they hadn't been getting along since Maycroft had decided she needed to become the figure their mother never had been. She had liked Maycroft better when she played pirates with her when she was five, but now she was different. All suits and disapproving looks and "caring is not an advantage."

She liked being alone, when she was alone she could think and retreat into her mind palace. She had no doubt that being alone was the best for her. Sure, she'd had friends when she was younger but considering that she couldn't care less for them she'd labeled herself a sociopath and moved on in her life alone. She liked the isolation, and all of the doubts she'd had before had been shoved behind a door in the very back of her mind palace. There they stayed, ignored and silent. Except for the few times when she let her thoughts drift too far, the stabbing loneliness was forgotten and never acknowledged.

* * *

Adult Martin Hooper was really no less alone than he was as a teen. Really the only difference now was that instead of the weird guy who probably wasn't right in the head he was now the weird guy that worked in the morgue who probably wasn't right in the head. He didn't mind, not really. No he definitely didn't mind, not at all, for sure. He loved his job, he knew that he was helping people and dead people were much less judging than alive ones. It was just that the morgue could be rather lonely... And quiet. Dead people didn't make noise after all and being the only person there during his shifts meant that it was almost silent while he was working. But he didn't mind. Definitely didn't mind. Nope. Not at all.

Adult Sherrian Holmes was even more impossibly brilliant than she'd been as a teen. She had become the world's first and only consulting detective and now she helped Gina Lestrade and her goons whenever they were out of their depth. Also know as always. She lived for her job. It was her life, and even more importantly it kept the boredom away. She couldn't let the boredom creep up on her, because every time it did the thoughts would return. She'd tried deleting them, and ignoring them, and locking them behind a door as deep in her mind palace as possible. But they came back no matter how hard she tried. Whispering truths that she didn't want to hear, carrying loneliness and depression that she didn't want or need. So she worked, and worked, and worked. After all, keeping busy was the only way to keep the thoughts far away from her where they belonged.

* * *

Martin Hooper had never met anyone like Sherrian Holmes in his 29 years of existence. The woman had burst into his morgue one day, dark Belstaff coat swirling behind her, demanding to see the body that'd been brought in the day before. Martin had frozen, mouth gaping open as he stared at the imposing woman before stuttering that he couldn't just let anyone see the bodies. She'd rolled her eyes and replied in a tone that made him feel stupid even though he really had no reason to. She introduced herself as Sherrian Holmes, and she wasn't just anyone, she was the world's only consulting detective. Martin had only managed to nod and walk over, pulling out the body. He watched Sherrian as her eyes flicked over the dead woman for a few seconds, nodded, turned, and left without another word. Leaving Martin Hooper to stand with his mouth slightly open, trying to stop the butterflies in his stomach.

Sherrian Holmes had never met anyone like that man in the morgue, she never did ask for his name but his ID identified him as Dr. Martin Hooper. She had gone to the St. Bart's morgue with the intention of inspecting the body of a Sutton, the latest victim in an intriguing serial killer case, and ending up finding something even more fascinating. Nothing was interesting about Martin Hooper at first glance, he wasn't particularly attractive or clever looking, he owned a cat judging by the fur on his trousers, and hadn't been getting enough sleep lately. But for some reason Sherrian couldn't identify, her thoughts kept drifting back to him even now, several hours after leaving Barts. For some reason her mind was drawn to him... Sherrian took a few moments to create a room in her mind palace, sorting what she knew about Martin Hooper into neat boxes inside before returning to reality. This would require further investigation.

* * *

He'd known Sherrian for four years now, and Jane Watson for two but she'd never seen Sherrian like this before. She looked... heartbroken. But only when Jane would look away, when she was looking Sherrian would be her normal almost expressionless self. But then Jane would look away and Sherrian would stare at her with a pain that made Martin's stomach clench as if he could feel it himself. So he waited, until Jane left for some reason or another and then he walked over to where Sherrian was hunched over a microscope.

"You're a bit like my dad." Sherrian looked up at Martin with mild surprise in her eyes. "When he was... dying. He was always cheerful, he was lovely. Except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once. He looked... sad."

"Martin." She interrupted him in a tone that obviously was a warning to stop.

"You look sad. ...Are you okay? And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you." There was a heavy pause.

"You can see me."

"I don't count." Sherrian looked up, the shock she was feeling not making it's way onto her face. Why did he think that? He was Martin Hooper, of course he counted. He made her stomach flutter and made her work even harder to solve cases, because she knew it would impress him. And the most important of all, he _saw_ her. Saw things that even Jane didn't sometimes, things that Maycroft never caught on her cameras, and Mr. Hudson never picked up on despite how fatherly he was to her and Jane. Sherrian was snapped out of her thoughts by Martin's voice.

"All I'm trying to say is if there's anything I can do, anything you need. Anything at all, you can have me. Um no. I just mean-" Sherrian cut his bumbling off as he tried to correct his mistake.

"But what could I need from you?" Martin shook his head, looking down at the table and answered quietly.

"Nothing... I don't know. Um just-"

"Well actually maybe I-"

"I know you don't." And with that Martin Hooper left the morgue, leaving Sherrian alone with a dark frown on her face. By the time Martin returned she was gone.

* * *

"You were wrong." Martin jumped. He'd been opening the door of the now dark morgue, going home for the night when he heard the familiar voice from behind him.

"You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. You're right, I'm not okay. I think I'm going die." As Sherrian spoke she walked up to him, until she was only a few inches away. She grabbed his hand and brought it up to her cheek, keeping her hand over it. When Martin spoke it was quiet and gentle.

"What do you need?"

"You."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Yeah I know it's not funny or fluffy like everything else... But I did say that there would be angst! We'll be back to the fluff next chapter everyone so don't worry! I hope you liked it anyway and please review if you did! BYEEE!**


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